


Look Up

by diemarysues



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/F, Fluff, Second Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 21:38:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2707673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diemarysues/pseuds/diemarysues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Do you remember the office party last year?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Look Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alkjira](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alkjira/gifts).



> This was supposed to be a Hobbit-style birthday gift to alkjira way back in September... and I am horrible for only finishing it now.  
> In any case the request: Dis/Tauriel, decorating the christmas tree.

This moment that they share is well after the sumptuous dinner that accompanies every Christmas Eve, courtesy Bombur who had been helped by Bilbo, the newest addition to their household. The children have been settled (hopefully asleep instead of planning to creep down the stairs) and the adults have retired after dessert and several drinks.

 

Most of the adults.

 

They are alone in the sitting room. Soft music is playing off Nori’s iPod and the fire is burning low in the hearth. Both women are artfully adorning the tree Dwalin had chopped and dragged into the house; they’ve untangled the lights and strung them around, making sure they’re alight as they start with the decorations proper.

 

“These baubles are _beautiful_. They look like they’ve got miniature snowstorms in.”

 

“Frerin said that was the effect he was trying to achieve.” Dís carefully lifts another from the box, the twinkling fairy lights making the glass glimmer. “He also said to tie them on properly so they don’t shatter.”

 

Tauriel looks horrified at the prospect, green eyes wide. It calls attention to the way her eyeliner has been smudged from the careful lines of its application. The effect is most fetching. “I see now why Fíli and Kíli aren’t on decorating duty.”

 

Her sons are not blessed with enough caution for such endeavours. She laughs. “They’ll have the cookie decorations tomorrow, after Bilbo’s baked them. Ori will be on hand to look after them.”

 

“I vaguely remember him… red hair, nose always in a book? Eighteen?”

 

“Nineteen,” Dís corrects. The boy is a relative by marriage – his older brother Dori being Balin’s husband – and incredibly responsible for his age. She’d bought him some sketchbooks, leather bound and discreetly stamped with his name. “They should be arriving after lunch.”

 

“Best get this done quickly, then.”

 

All the presents have been brought in from the garage, untouched by tiny fingers, and they’ll be arranged underneath the massive tree just as soon as it’s completely decorated. Dís is sure this undertaking would have been completed more quickly if a) at least one other adult had stayed up to help and b) she hadn’t been as distracted as she is now.

 

Tauriel’s ethereal. The wedges she is wearing aren’t helping at all. Decorated with a pink-on-black floral pattern, they add another five inches to her already tall frame. Dís is very appreciative of the way they make Tauriel’s legs look longer and her arse especially lovely in that floaty green skirt (which has a hem far too short to be entirely fair).

 

To be honest, everything about Tauriel calls to Dís: her kindness and wicked humour, her bad habits of stealing pens and having crisps for lunch, her delicate wrists. Dís is as likely to finger comb Tauriel’s long hair from root to tip as she is to fist those red locks and ride her into the mattress. There is so much more than attraction on her part and keeping it all hidden away is exhausting. Surely she can look, a little.

 

Dís averts her gaze before she’s caught out; she retrieves the glass from the mantelpiece and takes a too-large gulp of port. It’s near midnight but she’s wide awake, and perhaps she will regret that in the morning when her sons tear through the house and then tear through their presents.

 

For now she’s warm and happy. There isn’t much more to ask for.

 

“Dís?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I wanted… do you remember the office party last year?”

 

Her immediate instinct is to answer in the negative. The Seven Rings Firm awards hard work with partying hard, usually with enough good alcohol to keep the cheer going through the night. Anyone’s ability to retain memories is entirely dependant on how much they partook. Given that Dís had finally closed the Azog case that December (ensuring that evil bastard would remain behind bars for two lifetimes), she had _enjoyed_ herself very much. Most of it had been a blur.

 

But if Tauriel is bringing it up, then Dís rather suspects she knows what this conversation will be about. There was one memory that was clear as diamond, even twelve months later.

 

“I remember parts of it,” she answers carefully, watching the other woman over the rim of her spectacles.

 

Tauriel doesn’t beat about the bush. “You kissed me.” Her attention seems to be on the set of eagle ornaments Bifur had carved from wood. “There was mistletoe in the pantry and no one else was there. Do you remember?”

 

Dís can say no. She can lie. But that’s not in her make up. “I remember.”

 

“I…” She bites her glossy lower lip. “I see.”

 

Only just managing to prevent her exhale from shuddering out of her lungs, Dís looks away. She can remember how soft those lips were, a year ago or not. It’d been a stupid impulse, so very stupid, and until this very moment Dís had assumed that Tauriel hadn’t remembered it.

 

She clearly does. But she’d not said a word about it this whole year, despite the fact that their offices are beside each other, despite the fact that they work and lunch together, despite the fact that they’re comfortable with Tauriel being invited to Dís’ home for Christmas. So why was Tauriel bringing it up now?

 

There is a touch to Dís’ arm. Reluctantly she turns and looks up into prettily green eyes. She cannot see any anger or confusion. Only… hesitance?

 

“You told me something as well.”

 

“I… did?” Dís definitely does _not_ remember anything of the sort. Oh God, what the _fuck_ had she said? Knowing the comedic laws of the universe, she’d probably have declared her feelings and in so doing had made Tauriel so uncomfortable that she could only confront Dís about it a whole year later. Yup. That sounds about right.

 

Something in Tauriel’s expression clears. “Ah. That part you don’t recall.”

 

“Well I did have a lot to drink.” She swallows, still tasting port at the back of her throat. (Last year, when they’d been in a similar position – alone, standing close, speaking softly – Dís had been drinking rum and cola instead of port.) “And let me just, let me apologise, Tauriel I’m –”

 

“‘Too bad you don’t love me back.’” Tauriel hand has dropped to Dís’ elbow. “That’s what you told me.”

 

She wants to hide in her bed and never venture out again.

 

Since there is only silence from Dís (she doesn’t know what to say that won’t make this situation worse), her best friend cleared her throat. “I could’ve brought it up earlier but. I took a year… well, first I thought it was all the drink.”

 

Hah. If only. (And maybe she’ll turn to more drink after Tauriel’s done asserting that they are nothing more than friends.)

 

“But you hardly ever lie, even with booze in you. So I… watched. I tried to see if I’d been blind to your affections but for the longest time I couldn’t tell. You hid too well.” Self-deprecating laugh. “Or maybe I didn’t know what to look for.”

 

“Yet you found something.” _Oh, very astute, Dís._ Obviously she’d found something. Otherwise this conversation wouldn’t be happening.

 

“Every time I entered a room, or you entered it, you’d…” Tauriel hesitates, as if she’s the one having her supposed-to-be-hidden-away feelings exposed. “You’d glance up over my head. Like you were looking for something.”

 

…had she? Dís wracks her memory banks. Even now that it has been pointed out to her, she can’t recall ever doing this. So could it be so unconscious an action that she’d not even noticed herself? Surely that can only be an indicator that Tauriel is right.

 

“And finally I put it together. The Christmas party, the mistletoe, the kiss.” There’s no more hesitance. Tauriel is close, too close, testing Dís’ willpower. Then she whispers, “There’s no mistletoe now,” and Dís is ruined.

 

A year later and kissing Tauriel makes Dís’ heart do little flip flops in her chest. This time her head is clear, filled with shock and incredulity, but clear, and that leaves her free to appreciate the returning press of lips against hers. Even in her stilettos Dís is shorter and has her face tilted upwards; she slips her hands up either side of Tauriel’s neck and cups her jaw.

 

It’s the other woman – her colleague and best friend and possible lover – it’s Tauriel who parts her lips, who presses closer to taste Dís. It’s Tauriel’s slim fingers that dance along the ridges of Dís’ spine and then grasp her hips. It’s Tauriel who shudders an exhale between them before surging forward again and stealing Dís’ breath.

 

It’s Tauriel who says, “I love you.” All the gloss on her lips has been kissed away. “And I know you love me back.”

 

Dís kisses her again, again and again, until they’re breathless and clinging to each other. Tauriel has fit her hands to Dís’ breasts, not bothering yet to unbutton her shirt. Heartbeat thudding in her ears – and promising to echo between her legs – Dís tries: “The tree.” Her voice breaks; she swallows. “We haven’t finished –”

 

“I think we can take a little break.” Oh, that smirk is devious – and promises pleasures untold. “Gives us extra incentive to finish quickly and then properly retire to bed.”

 

“Keep your skirt on,” Dís says after a moment. “And I’ll keep my heels.”

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed, probably full of mistakes, maybe there'll be a sequel. In any case, editing later.
> 
> (*hysterical laughter over as-of-yet unfinished hrbb)


End file.
